


Stamp Collector

by RoryFeoniks, vipjuly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Tries, Crack, Dean's Safeword, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural) is a Little Shit, Gabriel Is A Stamp Collector, M/M, Sam Winchester's Bitchface, Stamps Are Not Aphrodisiacs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryFeoniks/pseuds/RoryFeoniks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly
Summary: Gabriel has a secret that Castiel grossly misinterprets as a fetish.





	Stamp Collector

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I HAVE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO BE WORKING ON RIGHT NOW BUT PLEASE ENJOY THIS LITTLE BREAK  
> this damn website introduced me and ThePandaSquid and we are now an unstoppable force  
> the following crack!fic is the result of her googling gabriel's lore and origin and us rapidfire texting each other snippets of what would happen if gabe was a stamp collector and his secret got out (and misinterpreted by our beautiful smart charming clueless castiel)  
> this is unedited because i had to share it with the world a.s.a.p.  
> enjoy!!!

_Additionally, Gabriel is the patron saint of messengers, those who work for broadcasting and telecommunications such as radio and television, remote sensing, postal workers, clerics, diplomats, and stamp collectors._

Gabriel has been collecting stamps since the first stamp was invented over a century ago. When they became lickable, he got especially incensed to collect them aplenty. Some were bitter, some were sweet - he especially lied the sweet ones - but the satisfaction of licking them and then sticking them onto their carrying envelope is just something that Gabriel quite enjoys… privately.

When he was but a fledgling it had been Lucifer who had called Gabriel out on his “obsession with licking things”, and so Gabriel had moped and sighed and thought to himself: _I will keep this obsession, but I will keep it only to myself_. As times and the world changed, the perfect cover-up for his secret activities was born: porn.

More specifically: Gabriel’s Super Secret Stash Of Super Dirty Pornos.

Believe you me, it is not porn that Gabriel has collected in his locked, warded, and cursed box - it is stamps.

A plethora of them. 

And he’s hidden this box very, very well, and no one is the wiser about its contents, and like this, Gabriel has kept his secret safe for quite some time.

\--

Castiel has always been bright. Granted, he has some… questionable ways of applying his intelligence, but one could never argue against the fact that Castiel is quite handy. And he learned from the best: the Winchesters always know how to turn a situation around to their advantage. It might not be an immediate turn of events, in fact it could take days, months, years, two apocalypses and maybe dying three or four times, but -- the fact remains the same: they have proven to be masters of changing the odds in their favor. 

Castiel has learned well.

So in his musings about wondering whatever happened to the pizza man, he knows the only way to figure out what became of the babysitter is to find the sequel. He dares not search for it on Sam’s computer (how many times has Sam yelled about people looking for porn on his computer? Castiel has always wondered if Sam is as not-guilty of porn surfing as he puts on) and Dean’s laptop is always on the fritz because of _too much porn_ , so his options had been pretty slim for quite some time. But then- but then! Gabriel was brought back! And Gabriel is basically the harbinger of porn so he’s bound to have some information about the pizza man and the babysitter. 

Instead of asking Gabriel directly for the information, Castiel has found his way around Gabriel’s few belongings and ended up with quite a mysterious box. The wood is thick and knotted, weathered with time, and on the top in bold print is **GABRIEL’S SUPER SECRET STASH OF SUPER DIRTY PORNOS**. 

Jackpot.

Now, how to get in? The box seems to be locked, warded, and cursed. Castiel doesn’t really recognize many of the runes etched into the wood, and he brings it into the kitchen to set it on the table so he can examine it with the help of all of the bright lighting. His other option would be the war room, but the ambient lighting of the bunker is actually more of a hindrance than actually helpful when it comes to examining things. They should really think about putting track lights overhead, Castiel thinks. But alas, that is another thought for another time. 

Castiel has no idea how to open the box. But the Winchesters would surely figure out how to get in, right? Castiel places his palm atop the box and closes his eyes, feeling the magical energy. It’s… actually not all that powerful. Pulling his hand back, Castiel glances around the kitchen. There has to be something… 

He pulls a stainless steel meat hammer out of one of the utensil drawers, weighing it in his palm.

This’ll do.

In true Winchester Machismo Castiel brings the hammer head down on the lock of the box, successfully breaking it off. The lid pops open and Castiel feels pretty dang smug about this as he sets down the hammer and lifts the lid the rest of the way, peering almost giddily inside. Surely there is a wealth of knowledge to be…

Wait.

Castiel frowns.

Staring back up at him from inside the box are stacks upon stacks of… stamps? He picks up a small leaflet, examining it closely. Yes, these are stamps. He rifles a little deeper, coming up with more stamps of varying patterns, designs, and years, and then rests his hands on the ledge of the box, brows knitting as he looks upon his discovery with absolute consternation. This is not a porn stash. Castiel knows what skin mags and DVD’s look like, ok? These are definitely not that. 

Drumming his fingers along the side of the wood, Castiel closes the box and stares up at the ceiling, still deep in thought. These are in Gabriel’s porn box for a reason. Perhaps…

He lifts the lid, peering into the box again. 

Huh. 

Perhaps the stamps hold a different meaning.

Swiping a few of the stacks and tucking them into the pockets of his trench coat Castiel shuts the box and then repairs the lock with his mojo, leaving the box unscathed. He returns it from whence it came and then returns to his bedroom, contemplating his next move. He never did find out what happened to the pizza man and the babysitter, but he did just find something new and interesting to try. 

Now to just wait for Dean to come home.

\--

“I’m just saying,” Dean’s voice echoes in the bunker as soon as him and Sam come clanking in through the heavy duty door, “speed limits signs in the middle of nowhere are just a _suggestion_. Ain’t no way I’m driving 50 miles an hour on a deserted stretch of highway in the middle of the night.”

Sam’s bitchface is at 100% capacity as he trails after Dean, “No, Dean. The law is the law and you should follow posted traffic signs for your safety, and anyone else who’s on the road.”

“ _Ok_ ,” Dean rolls his eyes, their boots heavy and thudding on the iron stairs, “but when no one is on the road - not even cops - I ain’t doing the speed limit.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Dean. You shouldn’t drive so recklessly - what if you got in an accident?”

“Every time Baby has been wrecked it’s never been my fault,” Dean shoots back in defense, throwing his bags of groceries down on the map table. “Quit pestering me. You’re alive. You didn’t die. We’re good.”

Bitchface overload. “There aren’t any Oh Shit handles in the car Dean, if my door hadn’t been locked I would have been flung out of it.”

Dean sends Sam a serene smile. “Always wear a seatbelt.”

Sam tosses his hands in the air before grabbing all of the grocery bags, clomping off towards the kitchen. As he leaves he passes Castiel, who nods a greeting at him, and then Dean grins at the angel.

“Hey, buddy. I’d ask what you’re doing up at this time of night but… you don’t sleep, so. What’s up?” Dean pulls out a chair and sits down, kicking his feet up onto the ledge of the map table.

“I think I have discovered a new aphrodisiac.”

Dean chokes on his spit and whips his head around, making sure no one else heard Castiel’s words. “Jesus, Cas-”

“I would like to test it immediately.”

Dean squints at the angel, but it only takes a few seconds for him to stand up and rotate his shoulders in both a shrug and a stretch. “Could you at least pretend to have a little more tact?”

“Why would I be indirect about my wish to have coitus? It seems rather asinine when we both want it.” 

Dean squints again, before pinching the bridge of his nose and waving his free hand. “Ok. Whatever. Lead the way Casanova.”

Castiel turns on heel and makes his way down the hall towards the bedrooms, Dean trailing after him. Castiel is sans trench coat, which is always odd and yet slightly endearing to Dean. The man wears it like a security blanket and whenever it’s off Dean knows Castiel is either injured, uncomfortable, or about to give Dean a new and invigorating way to orgasm. 

Since Castiel had used the word ‘coitus’ not moments before, Dean has a pretty good idea as to where this missing trench coat leads. 

Once inside Dean’s bedroom Dean shuts the door behind him, moving to the bed so he can sit down and start unlacing his boots. “Am I gonna need my safeword tonight?” he tries to joke, but he knows it’s not a joke at all. His safeword is Oklahoma. 

Don’t ask.

“I do not believe so,” Castiel says plainly. “Stand, please.”

Dean shucks his boots off to the side and then stands up, unbuttoning his flannel and tossing it into his hamper. He leaves on his undershirt and the rest of his clothes and then Castiel reaches into the pockets of his slacks, apparently fingering something inside thoughtfully. Dean’s eyes follow the flex of Castiel’s forearm as his hidden fingers move, the hunter licking his lips in anticipation. Castiel is always into trying new things and Dean is always into following him down the rabbit hole of pleasure. 

Castiel pulls out a book of stamps.

Dean stares at it. Blinks. Looks up at Castiel. “Uh.”

Castiel steps into Dean’s space and very carefully pulls a stamp off of the little booklet, holding it up. “Don’t move.”

\--

“Sam,” Gabriel’s voice is a little thin, but he’s putting on what he thinks is decent bravado as he approaches the taller Winchester. “Have you uh. Seen my box of porno lying around anywhere?”

Sam wrinkles his nose. “Gross, Gabe. No. Why would you just leave it lying around?”

“Well- I. Didn’t. But I may have misplaced it.” Someone had clearly tampered with it but repaired it and Gabriel is a little nervous about the whole thing. When he’d peered inside, a few of his stamp booklets had been gone. “Also, are you sending out any mail tomorrow?”

Sam squints into the sun before shaking his head. “...No.” He holds up his hands in surrender before returning to unpacking the groceries. “No to your weird porn box and no to sending out any mail. I don’t even think we have any stamps.”

Gabriel sweats. “Oh. Uh, thanks bud!” He salutes and then exits the kitchen.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

\--

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, after Castiel places a third stamp on his bicep. The self-adhesive kind.

Castiel looks up at Dean with consideration. “Does this not arouse you, Dean?”

Dean’s brows shoot up into his hairline. “Does this _what_.”

Castiel squints a little, the corners of his pretty baby blues wrinkling attractively. “Hm.” He pulls away. “I suppose this is not how they are meant to work.”

Dean bounces his eyes from the stamps on his arm to Castiel’s face. “ _What_.”

“Goodnight, Dean. We will resume tomorrow.”

Castiel leaves Dean’s room and Dean peels the stamps off of his skin one by one, “What in the actual fucking hell…”

\--

The next day at breakfast, Castiel joins Gabriel, Sam and Dean in the kitchen. Gabriel has, of course, a short stack of pancakes in front of him drizzled in copious amounts of syrup; Sam has a sensible fruit bowl and yogurt; and Dean has a giant mug of coffee. About usual fare for breakfast in the bunker. 

Castiel thinks he has figured it out. He approaches the kitchen table, uncaring that Sam and Gabriel may become privy to details about Castiel and Dean’s sexual relationship (and it’s not that they don’t know, it’s just that everyone loudly claims that they don’t need to know _specifics_ ). Castiel pulls out a different stamp of books - he misses the way Gabriel’s eyes widen in horror - and then slams an envelope down on the table.

Dean finally looks up at him. 

Holding eye contact, Castiel licks the stamp ever so slowly, deliberately, tasting the bitterness on his tongue. He then uses his thumb to press the stamp down into the upper right corner of the envelope, never breaking eye contact with Dean, who looks mildly uncomfortable.

Gabriel looks on in wonder.

Sam arches an eyebrow.

Not a word is uttered.

Dean is the first to break the silence by standing up abruptly, his chair legs _scrrrrch_ ing on the floor, and then he promptly speed walks out of the kitchen, coffee in hand.

Castiel squints after him. Then mutters, “ _What_ is the proper application of stamps?”

Sam quietly gets up from the table, opting to take his breakfast to the bedroom to finish enjoying. 

Gabriel crams his mouth full of pancakes to hide his glee.

\--

This is getting ridiculous. For the whole week after Castiel had initially pulled out the stamps, Dean has been finding them _everywhere_. In his room, on his bedding, his toothbrush, the mirror, even on his underwear. Fed up, Dean collects all of the stamps (there must be!! Thousands of them!!!) and shoves them into a trash bag, throwing the sack out into the hallway to be dealt with later. 

Castiel is pretty much always this persistent whenever he gets an idea in that head of his, but Dean is just so _bewildered_ by the fact that Castiel thinks stamps are an _aphrodisiac_ , he has no idea how to tell the angel to stop. But if he doesn’t soon, this will get out of hand.

More out of hand. 

He climbs into bed and curses when he looks up at the ceiling and sees a stamp stuck on the rafters.

\--

Outside of Dean’s room Gabriel finds the bag of torn and used stamps, hauling it up with a grin. He slings the bag over his shoulder and is almost hopping his way through the bunker, on his way to take the bounty towards the proper receptacle. As he passes by Sam, who has been reading diligently in the library for the past hour, he’s stopped by the man’s suspicious voice.

“What did you do.”

Gabriel turns to Sam with exuberance, “My greatest trick yet!” And he didn’t even plan for it to be this way! Truly pranks this elaborate happen on their own with merely a guiding hand. 

Even more skeptical now, Sam gets up from the table when Gabriel disappears, heading down the hallway towards Dean’s room.

Castiel is in Dean’s bedroom again, the door cracked open. They’re sitting side by side on the bed, Dean with a beer in his hand resting on his knee, staring straight ahead as Castiel patiently licks stamp after stamp, adhering them to Dean’s face.

“Do you feel it yet?”

Sam stares in disbelief as Dean takes a swig of his beer, saying nothing. 

Frowning, Castiel speaks again. “Tell me when you feel something.”

“I feel like I’m gonna punch you in the face.” Dean says sourly.

Castiel looks down at the stamp booklet in his hand. “Maybe it only works if you lick the stamp, too.” He holds a fresh one towards Dean’s mouth.

Sam has to speed walk away as quietly as possible, palm over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Once he’s out of earshot he bursts into guffaws, running a hand through his hair. Gabriel returns from taking out the garbage and raises a brow at the man - who promptly reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

“ _Dude_ ,” Sam says, once he’s finally got his laughing under control. He slips Gabriel a crisp twenty. “Nice.”

Gabriel grins and winks.

It takes Dean another full week before he breaks down and tells Castiel that there’s no way in or on any plane of existence that stamps will ever be _sexy_.

Gabriel’s secret is still safe.

**Author's Note:**

> now that i have this out of my system my other works should get back on schedule  
> comments and kudos are always eaten up immediately with a please and thank you!  
> frick me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/deansdaisydukes)


End file.
